My Grandson Fights a Fire

Azalea, dragon’s breath
blaze, and the small boy
whirls in, wielding a lean,
green blade, switch grass
hose, rope, axe.
I watch him flush out
spider mites, bees,
then scramble beneath
porch steps to break
a minute from the hiss
and crackle, the twitch
and singe of the winged
flame petals. He bites his lip,
collects wits, as the jitter
of the whole red, rustling
world builds to blast
off and surge and only
he can save us.

Mary Beth Hines’ first poetry collection is forthcoming from Kelsay Books before the year’s end. Her work appears in Brilliant Flash Fiction, Crab Orchard Review, Madcap Review, SWWIM Every Day and elsewhere. Visit her at www.marybethhines.com